


Drabbles & flashes

by TGBMcCray



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Star Wars - All Media Types, Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Basketball, Drabbles, F/M, Fix It, Flash Fiction, Flashes, My mind is a dark place, Vampires, all the sex, is it hot in here?, multi-fandom - Freeform, prince - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22466518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TGBMcCray/pseuds/TGBMcCray
Summary: All the random scenes that come to me but don't (and may never) fit anywhere else. Star Wars, Reylo, Twilight, Prince, sexy ball players, etc etc etc "So let it be written/ so let it be done."
Relationships: Edward Cullen/Bella Swan, Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. Give it to me.

**Fandom: Star Wars, Reylo**

The stars unfold around them in lines of white that remind him of the glitterstim traded in the dark and smoky haunts of the Hutt cartel. Being here, lost with her small hands making constellations of the small moles and old scars on his shoulder blades and chest, feels like one of those hallucinogenic trips. Intense in a dreamy sort of way. Delicious. Heat soaked and confusing as his fingers weave mirror images of her movements, caressing her pert nipples, her clavicles, the thin, tunnel shape between her breasts. She is starlight and madness.

The bond between them flares and spits, a fiery blaze of humanoid sparklers in a deep velvet sky. His mouth finds hers even as she smiles, plump lips melting against her small giggle.

“Why do you laugh?” He asks, already knowing.

“You’re maudlin,” she says, her quick fingers pushing against the heat of his naked chest. “Can’t you just enjoy it... enjoy us?”

His erection presses against her stomach. “Who says I’m not enjoying myself?”

She nips the wide shell of his left ear through his hair and his mouth stretches into a grin so boyish and delightful and such a contrast to the hard heat of his cock that she cannot keep her thoughts from automatically passing to him through the bond. She squeaks as she finds herself pinned to the bed, his huge frame weighing against her small one in a flash of movement masked and so fast that even she did not sense it coming.

“Oh, really?” His deep voice, pitched to that tone that has undone since her first told her what she already knew so long ago, that he can take, and take and take, _whatever he wants_ , does dark things to her and to the wetness between her legs. His hand moves to his cock, fisting between them, drawing the velvet slant of it against her core in one agonizing brush. “I think I can make sure you enjoy it, Rey. Do you doubt me?"

His other hand reaches for her throat and she bucks against him, pleading through the bond, spoken words unnecessary. 

_Never. Please. Now._

_Give it to me._

_Give it._

_Give it to me._


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Twilight Saga

The devil takes many forms. Sometimes she's a tall, smooth blonde, strapping me down in a cold white room and asking me softly, "Wouldn't you like to get up and play?" 

Sometimes she's a delicious African queen, bringing me to heel with nothing more than the razor touch of her talon-like nails. I try to catch her when she moves away, but she sets loose with a thrumming of the great black wings I didn't know she had, and seconds later, she dips and is gone. 

Gone. 

Most often she is a petite brunette, disturbing in her stature because her slightness disguises the anger and darkness that well up from her glowing coal eyes. No matter her form, each time she speaks her voice is the same, and the sound of it awakens something in me – something between fear and worship – at the tip of madness. 

Madness and death and lust. My roommate, Emmett, says she is only a madness, a product of too much Klonopin and too many resistors in my brain. These are the times when even a crazy person knows that schizophrenia sucks. I want her to be real. It would make it all a little bit more bearable. 

"Edward," she says, her hands running over my prone and naked body. "One day I will take you with me." Her long fingers cup my scrotum when my eyes begin to flutter in sensation and pleasure. I must not let my attention wander. She wants me to listen. 

"Yes, miss?" 

She palms me. Her grip is firm, as strong as what I imagine a man's might be. I can't reconcile her strength to her luscious little body, but her hands are telling me I shouldn't try. She licks my throat and her glowing black eyes are very near in the darkness. "Some night, my darling, I will make you mine." 

I don't answer because she is stroking me. It's so hard to be quiet, because I am growing, weeping, seeping, yes, yes, yes, nearly exploding in her expert hands. I don't want to come, don’t want to come… 

I don't want her to go. Not yet. 

Not yet 

Not yet 

Not yet.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reylo  
> Rey  
> Kylo  
> Finn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandom: Star Wars, all media

Acting, dancing, and singing create liars and thieves you can’t help but love. We slip into our untruths and wear them like coats of finest mink, warm against the madnesses and realities of mere mortals. 

Give me your emotions and I will dance them. Give me your words to sing and your dreams to make believe. I am what _you_ want to be, and what _he_ wants to see. 

Just don’t give me love. I cannot feel it. _It’s a lie_. 

*** 

His kiss intoxicates. I feel it in the curl of my toes and the heat that blocks out the bluish evening lights around us. I want more, need him so desperately that it feels like oblivion when he steps away. I’m a goner. 

There is nothing else but this. Nothing else but him. No lights. No audience. No reviews. No stage hands. No heartbeat even, except the one I feel beneath my hands. 

The curtain falls and Finn is calling, “Change!” with a blue dress in his hand, and the darkness and warmth of Kylo is slipping free, already off, stage left. He’s walking away. “C’mon!” Finn is whisper yelling. I reach up, my eyes on the iron steps he disappeared down. 

My lips are still warm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was inspired by Banks, Waiting Game. A very pretty little song.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Prince

Sex felt like breathing. In and out, deep or shallow, fast and slowly building. It rose up from him to leave me cherished or ravished in equal intensity.

He prayed the way a friar might, in contemplative moments of deep intensity, lips moving quietly in prayers that could be poems, so beautiful were the words and so deep in their devoted belief.

His music came from both mothers, birthing his faith and his raw needs with a mind tingling genius that no one could touch. We were all just orbiting around him, watching his flames, unable to look away even when it made us blind. Someone once said he didn’t play a guitar. He  masturbated it to completion. The truth of this could be found in the little death playing over his face whenever a song ended and the clenching of our hearts and lady parts whenever he picked up a mic or touched a key or when his fingers licked across one of his many guitars.

His movements on stage and those high falsetto screams didn’t just whip his fans into frenzy, they pulled us inside him where he could feast on our energy a nd we could gorge on his talent . None of it was ever enough.

He would play and he would pray and after he came from the first, someone would be chosen for the last, for the sex.

I never expected it to be me. He pulled me up to dance that night and when the song ended, there was that sexy grin, that playful twinkle in his eye, and I was whisked away to wait for him. I would’ve followed him to the ends of the E arth. 

But the Earth was never made to hold him after all.

When he came to me that first night back stage, I couldn’t stand in front of him. My knees would not hold me, and with all his swagger, he knew. And so for the first time I saw the quiet intensity, the careful protection he offered those in his circle. 

He stood in front of me and took my hand, kissing it. The low lights in the dressing room hit the sweat in the curls of his chest hair and I could smell him now, in this close room. 

“It’s so nice to meet you, dear,” he said, a lion stalking on stacked heels. “I do hope you’ll stay with me?”

My tongue involuntarily curled against my lower lip. I couldn’t speak. I was shaking and so dry and wet and lost and coming home . At any moment, he would order me away and it would be my fault, for freezing like that. 

His eyebrows were up and he was shaking his head just slightly, still holding my quivering fingers in his steady ones. “Blink once for yes and twice for no?” That humor. I thought he’d be serious but every illusion I had of him was only that. Smoke.

I blinked, hard, and he clapped his hands. “Well,” he purred. “I can’t wait to get a sound out of you. I bet I can. A good one. ” 

He had me calling for His God with very little movement. That frenetic energy distilled into the kind of concentration with which he played and I spilled for him, undulating in waves of song no one ever released from me but him. 


	5. When I Am Old

**Fandom: Star Wars**

When I am old 

And the world I knew has gone away

I think I will look back on what was 

What came, what grew, what truths I knew

And I will listen and see and know and say

That life does not happen because we force it

Push it, pull it, lying in wait for moments to grasp 

In greedy, reaching hands and open mouths

But it ripples, and it shakes, and it rolls over us

In waves of triumph, moments of pain, seas of love

Each according to her own, as we give it

So yet we receive it, until the day we close our eyes

And He receives us, a quiet soul ready to be taken

Into the folds of a flock so warm and safe from all that was

That we begin anew, in all that we can become

Because of how we lived. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this for my Ben, on the occasion of our anniversary a couple years back.


	6. I Fucking Love Basketball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So anybody who knows me knows I’m a big basketball fan. This is just for fun.

**Fandom: Self insert. (Star Wars? Twilight?)**

When it's a W, I can't get back there fast enough.

There's a reporter waiting and I'm already half out of my bra. I shove it down into my bag and slam his locker door on the whole mess. Barkley's running his mouth at him. I can see him on the big screen, asking about strategy, and my baby is up there just twitching with the rush of this moment. When he's off, I rush out in to the tunnel and wait, wait...

I hear them coming and step up, and he's not surprised because this is us, what we do, what we both need. Coach keeps walking but my baby's massive hand is on my shoulder, guiding me, and there's a door close by and we duck through it. I've got his shorts down before it closes and he's palming my ass like the ball, one hand all over me. "You did it, baby," I say. He's beyond words, guttural, and he's against me, cooling sweat and hard need.

"You won," I breathe, but he swallows the rest of my words.

I feel his smile against my mouth. "Imma bout to win again. You best prepare yourself."

He says prepare but there's no time. He's hitched up my skirt and he's in me. He's in me deep.

I fucking love basketball. And I fucking love him.


	7. Ben's Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Universe: Star Wars  
> This was written in response to a fanart prompt posted in Reylo FicRecs. I wish I knew how to link to the image on insta, but it's Ben Solo, holding about a toddler age little dark-haired cherub of a child.

Rey feels the echoes of him in my head sometimes still. Snoke’s voice, crawling beneath my skin as softly as her fingers now drift across it. She can hear him, and she will wake me before I come to consciousness beside her, a broken child gasping and shouting all the words I always wanted to say but never could.

It used to be me and her, alone against the darkness, the loneliness, the crushing desperation of life and dark skies that stretched into the bleakness of forever. Before he was born, though, I began to know him. He reached out to both of us through the Force, and kriff, at first it was terrifying, feeling his presence, unspoken and undefined, thrumming through my veins. He was good, just like her. Though the darkness lives in him as it lives in us all, he was able to use it in a way I never could. He can taste it without letting it consume him. Sometimes it’s that wicked smart little laugh of his when he wants more Hilean dough cakes but Rey says no. They’ll end up in his plate when she’s not looking, and he will chuckle when she scolds him. Force cloaking his mother’s senses so he can steal more sweets. Oh, yes. He’s evil.

Now when the dreams of Snoke and Vader and Luke in the hut come she will wake me, and once the echoes have faded enough for me to breathe fully, she will pad on small, silent feet down the hall to his room, lift him in her arms, and carry him to me in the darkness.

With her beside me and him in my arms, even the darkness cannot overtake me. She is light. He is the future. Together, they stitch my rent soul into soft patches of peace.


End file.
